


In Plain English

by K_Hanna_Korossy



Series: John Sheppard 101 [8]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-01-27
Packaged: 2018-05-16 16:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5832613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_Hanna_Korossy/pseuds/K_Hanna_Korossy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sheppard's mission report is a lot more informative than Rodney would've expected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Plain English

 

_On August 9, 2005, Earth Standard, Dr. Rodney McKay accompanied…_

Rodney stopped reading and looked up. “What is this?”

John had perched on the corner of his table as soon as he’d handed Rodney the sheet of paper and now just smirked at him. “Keep reading.”

“But—”

“Keep reading.”

He made a face but bowed his head again.

_…McKay accompanied his team through the Atlantis Stargate to planet M5T-339…_

M5T-339. He wouldn’t be forgetting that planet designation anytime soon. Rodney felt himself flush and looked up to ask again, “What _is_ this?”

The smirk was gone, the answer almost gentle this time. “Keep reading, Rodney.”

A request, not an order. Rodney bit his lip and kept going.

_…M5T-339, known by the natives as Aquada._

“Not that it was a water planet. I mean, why call a place ‘Aquada’ if there’s no water? Or Naquadah. That would have made sense, too. But no, just trees. And grass. Lots of grass.”

“Would you shut up and keep reading?”

“Is that a question?” At Sheppard’s glower, Rodney grimaced but went on.

_While half the team went to examine planetary defenses, Dr. McKay and Lieutenant Aiden Ford looked at their farms._

“Farms?” Rodney looked up incredulously. “Those were agricultural centers, or do those words have too many syllables for you? You make it sound like we were touring Old McDonald’s backyard.”

“Did they have animals?”

“Of course.”

“And fields?”            

“Yes, they were growing—”

“Then they’re farms.”

“So says the expert from cattle country. I’m surprised you didn’t call them ranches.”

“Ranches are—”

“I know what ranches are, okay?”

“McKay…”

“I know, I know. Keep reading.”

_At this time, Dr. McKay and Lt. Ford came under sudden attack from what would turn out to be a rebel faction opposed to the central Aquadan government._

“‘Sudden attack’?” Rodney repeated bitterly. “Try ambush. They were waiting for us. We never had a chance.”

“That’s why it’s called an attack, Rodney. If they came bearing Christmas presents or hors d’oeuvres, we’d call it something different.”

_Lt. Ford was injured…_

Rodney stopped. “Injured” was such a little word for so much blood. He could still feel it seeping through his fingers as he pressed down on the makeshift bandage he’d fashioned. “Try ‘cold-bloodedly shot,’” he muttered. “Or maybe ‘bleeding like a stuck pig.’ It goes with your whole Old McDonald theme.”

“You saved his life,” Sheppard reminded him quietly. “Doc said he would have bled out if you hadn’t put that dressing on.”

“Yes, well, I have a curious aversion to people dying around me,” Rodney snapped. “Consider it a character flaw: necrophobia.” He dipped his head determinedly to read on.

_Lt. Ford was injured and Dr. McKay was taken hostage._

He trailed off, staring at the paper.

“Rodney?”

“I was just, uh…” He licked his lips. “Did you know they threatened to shoot Ford in the head if I didn’t go with them?”

The major’s eyes had narrowed. “No, actually— _somebody_ must have left that part out.”

“I just…I thought you should know that. I didn’t just go with them because they told me to.”

“Rodney—”

“Shut up, I’m reading.”

_Major Sheppard and Teyla Emmagen, the remainder of the team, were immediately summoned by an Aquadan official. While Teyla tended to Lt. Ford, it was determined Dr. McKay was being held in a building on the outskirts of the city._

Rodney’s eyes flicked up. “You never told me how you found the place.”

“What?”

“The place they were holding me. How did you…?” he motioned with his hand.

“Oh.” Sheppard crossed his arms. “Actually, the government had a lot of intel on this group and the building was one of several suspected safe houses for the faction. Didn’t take much to figure out it would be the best place to keep you.”

“So, uh, you figured it out?” Rodney wasn’t even sure why it mattered, but it did.

“I guess you could say that.” John was looking at him narrowly, trying to figure out where he was going with this. “I couldn’t have done it without their intel, though.”

Rodney arched an eyebrow. “Which they just _gave_ to you because you asked so nicely.”

A cagey smile appeared briefly. “I can be very persuasive when I want to be.”

“Yes, I’m sure you can,” Rodney murmured. When one of Sheppard’s people’s lives was on the line, especially. He knew that but hadn’t really followed the train of thought to the end until now. Freshly humbled, Rodney continued.

_Combining forces with the Aquadans, the building was successfully penetrated._

Rodney snorted. “Penetrated?”

“Penetrated. That’s the term for it. You know, breached, entered, infiltrated…”

“It’s just so…military.”

“Huh,” Sheppard said dryly. “I wonder where I get that from?”

“You have a job where you shoot things and blow them up, and then you use utterly sleep-inducing jargon like ‘penetrated’ or ‘secured.’”

“Well, I’m sorry if it’s not _graphic_ enough for you. I’ll try to do better next time.”

“Fine.”

“Besides, there were no explosions and very little shooting. I only took out a couple of guys, myself.”

Rodney started, gazing up uncertainly at Sheppard. The major’s mouth was twisted with humor but there was a serious glint in his eyes. Right, no explosions because that might have pushed Rodney’s captors to do something rash, and as for the bodies…well, Sheppard tended to take personally people getting in between him and his team, especially people with bad intentions. Also something Rodney hadn’t given thought to, for good reason. He swallowed, not sure if he felt sick or reassured, and kept reading.

_By then, Dr. McKay had been tortured for information on accessing the Stargate, but…_

His mouth went dry. Tortured. Another innocuous little word that was utterly incapable of expressing what really happened. Absently, one hand rubbed the healed flesh of the other’s wrist. The restraints had cut into his skin, but their real terror lay in his helplessness as they jerked one arm out of its socket, then wrapped that whip around his throat, choking off his air and sending him into frenzied fits over and…

“Look, Rodney, why don’t you skip ahead to—”

“No, I…no, I mean,” his eyes darted up, met a compassionate gaze, and even more nonplussed, fell again. “It’s just words on paper, right? Ancient history. Not _Ancient_ history but, you know, in the past. As in not now. It’s not like that Neanderthal with the whip can hurt me anymore.”

A shadow fell across the paper he held. Sheppard had slid closer on the table, edging far enough into Rodney’s space that he almost instinctively scooted back. But he didn’t. “There’s nothing to be ashamed about, McKay,” John said quietly. “It messes with your head. But it also gets better. Believe me, I know.”

True, he did. Rodney didn’t know all the details, didn’t want to, but he recognized the voice of experience. He took a hiccupping breath, feeling the panic ease to mere skin-crawling levels, and nodded. “Yes, right. So if I, uh, turn into a quivering pile of Jell-O every time the subject comes up…”

“…I’ll make fun of you like I always do,” John said cheerfully, and nudged his leg with one toe. “But I’ll understand.”

“You have no idea what a great comfort you are,” Rodney said flatly. His heart had almost climbed back down into place again. “Any more consolation and I’ll shoot myself.”

“Don’t do that. We’re low on ammo, remember?”

He glowered at Sheppard, utterly without effect, and bent his head to read again.

“Oh, and Rodney?”

“What?” he barked.

“The caveman with the whip? He’s ancient history, too.”

He didn’t look up, didn’t want to see the hard truth in Sheppard’s eyes of what exactly that meant, but Rodney already knew. And…something in him sighed in relief. He nodded.

_…but despite being injured and restrained, he was able to escape without revealing any information._

“I still don’t understand how you did that, by the way.”

“What, didn’t talk?” Rodney asked wearily. He wasn’t sure about that part, either, and wasn’t surprised at Sheppard’s surprise.

“No. I know how stubborn you can be, remember?” Both teasing and not. Rodney straightened a little. “I was talking about the escaping.”

He managed a smile that was almost mischievous. “Remember when we had those training exercises? The ones where your men thought all scientists were helpless?” They had bound their hands but not their feet. The exercise had been quickly suspended when Rodney had gotten fed up with the whole thing and applied his knee to the nearest sensitive body part. Sheppard had exempted him from training exercises after that, for everybody’s protection.

John winced.

Of course, Rodney had nearly concussed himself head-butting his torturer, and if there had been more than the one guy in the room, he wouldn’t have had a prayer. Not to mention that as he’d staggered out of his little torture chamber, leaning heavily against the wall and terrified out of his wits, he’d had no idea what to do next. But if they wanted to call it an escape, he wasn’t arguing.

_We encountered him in the hallway…_

When he’d nearly smacked into Sheppard, then wasted no time collapsing on him. Rodney’s mouth curved. He was starting to like the whole military euphemism thing. If certainly made him seem a lot more heroic.

_…at which time Dr. McKay was able to direct us to the rest of the rebels. The members of the faction were successfully rounded up within the hour._

Rodney frowned. “I did that?”

“Sure. You don’t remember me asking you where the others were?”

“Not really, no. I seem to recall being somewhat occupied at the time.” Staying conscious alone had required more concentration than he usually devoted to Atlantis’ latest crisis.

“Yeah, well, there was that.” John rubbed his jaw reflectively. “Actually, it was more like me asking questions and you grunting and pointing, but it did the job. We got all of ‘em, including the ones hiding in the cellar.”

Right, the cellar they’d threatened to throw him into. Rodney did remember that. Maybe he had been able to help more than he thought. Mostly he remembered sitting in the hallway with his back against the wall and his legs drawn up to cradle his bad arm, Sheppard’s hand resting on his knee to keep him from spinning away. He shuddered at the thought of the almost-forgotten cellar.

A boot bumped his knee.

Rodney huffed softly and went on.

_While Teyla treated Dr. McKay, Major Sheppard secured the scene._

“Teyla,” Rodney repeated uncertainly.

“She cleaned up your wrists and throat, remember?”

“But she wasn’t the one who fixed my arm.”

“No, I was the one who had that pleasure. I didn’t want you kneeing Teyla anyplace unpleasant,” Sheppard drawled.

But Rodney hadn’t fought him, not when John had gingerly straightened his arm and gripped his shoulder, not when the unexpected jerk tore a cry from him and arched him away from the wall, not when gentle hands bound his arm to his chest afterwards, then rubbed the back of his neck in silent comfort until he could breathe again.

_“Teyla treated Dr. McKay,”_ maybe, but Sheppard had secured a lot more than just the scene.

Subdued, Rodney continued.

_The team was soon able to return to Atlantis. And in exchange for the help with their internal power struggle, the Aquadans gave significant concessions for future trade and allied help._

Rodney lifted an eyebrow. “What did we get for trade? I never asked.” In fact, he’d pretty much put the whole mission as far out of his mind as possible, until Sheppard had walked in and laid a piece of paper on the table in front of him.

“You know that stuff they’ve been serving up lately in the mess hall that you’ve practically been living on?”

Rodney’s eyes widened. The olive-colored brew didn’t taste a thing like coffee, but it wasn’t bad, and the caffeinated rush had converted him immediately. “Really? From the Aquadans? Hmm. All this might have been worth it after all.”

“Yeah, I thought so, too.”

Rodney cast him a sour glance. “Next time you go one-on-one with the Neanderthal, then you can talk.”

“I intend to,” John murmured, not really for Rodney’s ears. Two of his people going down made him a little overprotective. Sort of like a mother bear got a little overprotective when someone knocked around her cubs. Ford had been out of the infirmary only a day after Rodney and they were all cleared for missions now, but it would take a little longer for the dark gleam to fade from their team leader’s eyes.

Rodney had no answer to that, so he read on, the last paragraph on the page.

_It is in light of these events, particularly Dr. McKay’s courage under duress, resistance to giving up information, coordinated escape, and assistance in capturing those responsible for the attack on him and his fellow teammate, resulting in improved relations with a foreign power, that this Commendation is issued…_

Rodney’s mouth dropped open. “What? Commendation?”

“Yeah, Rodney, commendation. As in, good job.”

“I know what a commendation is, Major—unlike you, I actually paid attention in high school. But I don’t…I mean, I’m a civilian.”

“You know, there’s never been any doubt about that one, McKay.”

He frowned his annoyance, sure this was all a joke but seeing no teasing in Sheppard’s face. “But how can I—I mean, I didn’t do anything except get caught and manage to stay alive until you showed up. Unless standards have really gone down, I don’t exactly see that as award material.”

“Read the letter again.” John straightened, slid off the table. “Keep reading it until it sinks in. Being a hero isn’t always about big gestures. Sometimes it’s just staying alive, or worrying more about your people than about yourself.” He leaned closer, grinning. “You’re a smart guy, McKay, you’ll figure it out.” And with a casual two-fingered salute, he walked out of the lab.

Rodney stared after him, then down at the letter. _“…courage under duress…”_ It sounded good. Heck, it sounded great, and okay, maybe he deserved a little pat on the back. But a whole letter of commendation, signed by none other than Major John Sheppard?

“Figure it out,” he whispered. Remembering John’s white-faced look when Rodney had fallen against him in that hallway. The quiet encouragement as he’d fought to keep from passing out from pain. The solid grip around his bicep as they’d shuffled their way back to the gate. The larger and better part of the story, carefully left out of the official version.

_“Staying alive,”_ Sheppard had said, and there had been a few times when Rodney had been profoundly grateful for that skill in his friend, too. Maybe it wasn’t worth an official commendation, but they all had their ways of saying what they needed to. He got it now, and appreciated it.

Rodney carefully slid the letter into a drawer where it would be safe, and went back to work with a smile.

The End


	2. English for McKay fans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story behind "In Plain English." For Jeanne--happy birthday, my friend!

 

“Major Sheppard, there’s been a…problem.”

Not something I wanted to hear under the best of circumstances, even less when I was off-world and half my team was out of my sight. My eyes narrowed at the nervous little government flunky. “What _kind_ of problem?”

The long answer was that there was an anti-government faction in the area who wanted information about how to use the Stargate and had decided that Rodney and Ford were good candidates to help them get it.

The short answer was, Ford had been shot and Rodney was missing.

At that point I stopped listening and stormed back to where I’d last seen the rest of my team, Teyla hurrying to keep up behind me.

I knew it had been too good to be true: friendly people, technological development only at about 1960’s Earth level but still with some interesting agricultural advances that had Rodney curious, and a unique weapons system that had me salivating to take a look. Seemed safe enough, so we split up, Ford with McKay, Teyla with me. How much trouble could those two get into on a farm?           

I should’ve remembered the Genii.

The scene was a mess: scorch marks, fire eating up one small building—the local weapons were mostly heat-based—and bodies. Yeah, it didn’t escape my notice that our new friends had lost a couple of their people, too, but I only had eyes for Ford, sitting against a wall with face drawn and a red-spotted bandage on his shoulder.

“Lieutenant.” I knelt beside him, gave him a rough smile when he opened his eyes. The kid was obviously in pain. “How you doing?” I asked anyway.

“Okay, sir.” Even his voice was pinched, but Ford’s a marine. He was already trying to sit up straighter. “I’m okay, but they took Dr. McKay. I tried to stop ’em…”

“You did fine.” I squeezed his good arm. “We’ll get him back. Do you know how many of them there were?”

“About a dozen, sir. Blitz attack—organized. Led by a blond guy. They didn’t say anything, but they took off that way.” He pointed back behind me, hand shaking.

Teyla had reached us and was examining the shoulder. I looked back the way Ford was pointing, already calculating. “Did they hurt McKay?” I asked casually as I turned back.

“Not that I saw, sir, just kinda shoved him around. He wouldn’t go with ’em until he tied up my shoulder, but then he stopped arguing and went.”

“Good,” I murmured. McKay could be his own worst enemy, or rather, his mouth could. If he managed to keep it shut, he’d probably just doubled his chances of surviving until I got to him. Maybe even tripled; it was hard to underestimate his talent for irritation. Sometimes even I was tempted to shoot him.

I patted Ford’s arm, then helped Teyla get him on his feet and gave her strict orders to get him back to Atlantis before she joined me. I could use her help when it was time for action, but we both had work to do first. I waited for her agreement, watched her hobble off with Ford leaning heavily on her, then turned back to my little government shadow.

“I want everything you’ve got on this group, and I want it in five minutes.”

 

“Ow!”

I wasn’t really surprised that nobody paid attention to my completely legitimate and understated complaint; kidnappers have an annoying tendency to ignore you until it’s time for questions and demands and pain. I swallowed, silent even as another shove from behind nearly sent me to the ground. Sooner or later we’d get to where we were going, and even though I was tired and long past ready to stop, I wasn’t looking forward to what would come after.

They’d shot Ford. I kept trying not to think about it, or wonder if the young lieutenant was still alive, but it was hard not to. They’d shot Ford, and before I could do more than slap a bandage on his shoulder, they’d tied my wrists and marched me off to God knew where, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t agricultural facilities. I seriously doubted they were throwing me a party.

And if we’d been attacked, had Sheppard and Teyla been, too? My mouth went dry at the thought, and not just because that meant no rescue. No. I didn’t believe that. Couldn’t believe that. They’d wanted me specifically, and had waited until there were only two of us to make their move. My reputation had probably preceded me even to this backwater world; genius is a real burden sometimes. No, Teyla and John probably didn’t even know yet we’d been attacked. Sheppard wouldn’t be too happy about it, and I smiled grimly at the thought. If I just managed to stay alive long enough, I’d even be around for the no-doubt impressive rescue he was planning. The major had some issues with leaving behind teammates. And I was rarely so grateful for that philosophy.

Another shove, and I couldn’t keep from falling against a wall this time, wincing as it scraped my cheek. Between the blindfold and my arms restrained behind me, my balance was already precarious as it was. “If I could see,” I seethed between clenched teeth, “I could move faster.”

No answer. There was never any answer. I’d been kidnapped by a team of deaf-mutes.

A door opened and the ground became floor under my feet, the air stuffy and still. We were going inside, and my heart sank a little lower. Rescue would have been easier out in the open. I always forgot breadcrumbs when I needed them. Or even better, a beacon. Heck, I’d have settled for a smoky bonfire.

Besides, indoors meant the end of the road, and the start of whatever it was they had planned for me.

I was dragged to a rough halt, and there was a scraping sound. “You want him down in the cellar?” someone asked.

My throat tightened. I hoped they weren’t talking about me—cellars were dark, cramped, full of bugs, a cornucopia of phobias. Was a clean, well-lit cell with a bath too much to ask for?

“Later,” was the terse response, and as the heavy door dropped shut, somehow I didn’t feel too reassured. I was shoved into motion again.

Another door opened ahead, and footsteps moved off. Only one seemed to be escorting me now, but the painful grip he had on my arm wasn’t encouraging any escape attempts. My weapon was my brain: give me a screwdriver and I’d be out of there in an hour, the place a smoking ruins behind me. The physical stuff I’d always left to Sheppard and Ford and Teyla. I had no idea how to overpower a guard, let alone get past the others between me and the door.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said reasonably, sounding nervous to my own ears. “If you could just—”

The blindfold jerked off so suddenly, I drew a startled breath. And blinked at the bright room, the one chair in it, and the sneering face invading my personal space.

“Uh, hello.”

“Sit.” He pushed me back, and I stumbled into the chair. He moved behind me, and I licked my lips nervously.

“Look, I think we really got off on the wrong foot here. If you could just tell us what you want instead of—” I broke off with a groan as my arms were yanked down behind me. I gritted my teeth, tried to find my train of thought. “You don’t have to—” The strain got worse, my shoulders crying out. I would be joining them in a minute. “Please,” I only mumbled this time.

The pain just kept growing, soon becoming agony, fire across my shoulders and down my back as I tried to keep breathing. And then with a pop, my left shoulder went. I probably could have heard it instead of just feeling it if I hadn’t been too busy screaming.

“There.” My hands were tied off, stretching my back like a bent bowstring, sending torturous ripples up my arm with every movement. I blinked cold sweat out of my eyes and tried to stop groaning. I wasn’t having a lot of success in either attempt.

My own personal Marquis de Sade stepped back around the chair to stand in front of me, smiling pleasantly. I made an effort to glare at him, which probably didn’t impress him much considering I couldn’t look up higher than his chest and there were tears rolling down my face, but I tried. God knows, I tried.

“Now we can start,” he said.

I began cursing him, moving on to Russian and a little Czech I’d picked up from Radek when I ran out of words in English. But inside, the part of my brain that wasn’t occupied with serious pain began a quiet but heartfelt chant.

_Anytime now, Major. Anytime now, Major. Really, anytime now…_

They actually had a lot of records on their rebel faction, which was good for us but also left me a little steamed that they knew these guys were a threat and hadn’t thought to mention it. But I could be mad at them later. At that moment, I had some rebels to find.

“So these are all the suspected safehouses and strongholds they have?” I asked, looking over the maps and notes.

“Yes.” I had a liaison now, which I think meant they’d finally found somebody who wasn’t too scared to talk to me. “There are surely others we don’t know about, but these are the ones we have learned of.”

“Why haven’t you already taken them down?” I asked idly, guessing the answer but testing waters. It’s good to know how your allies think. Make sure they’re allies, for one thing.

“Because it is easier to watch your enemy when you know where to look.”

I nodded, satisfied, distracted as I studied the maps. A few of the places were immediately out, too far from the farms Rodney had been snatched from. Another few were eliminated for other tactical reasons, too public to deliver a hostage to in broad daylight or too close to homes for what I had no doubt would be a messy interrogation. Which left… I pointed. “Tell me about these three.”

Within fifteen minutes, we had it narrowed down to one building. It was near the edge of the city, not far from the farms, far enough from other buildings. Multiple exits, few windows—just what I would have picked in similar circumstances. I made the decision, and no one argued.

They weren’t letting me lead their troops, and I couldn’t blame them for that, but they were sending a squad with me and I wasn’t turning down the help. I could’ve gone in alone and maybe gotten McKay out without raising an alarm, reducing the odds someone would decide to shoot him when they heard us coming. But there were two problems with that. One was that I didn’t know what shape he was in, and if he was injured, I might need help getting him out. And two, I didn’t want any of the rebels getting away.

Yeah, you could say I was taking this personally.

Which is why a half-hour later, twenty armed men and I were waiting in the shadows around one innocuous-looking, silent building. With a flick of my hand, we moved in.

The men knew their stuff, and took up battle with the rebels we came across. But I moved ahead, silent and deadly. I had just one goal in my sights.

And then I rounded a corner and ran right into it.

 

I’ve been electrocuted, cut, shot, drugged, and, oh yes, drained of energy by a large black cloud. None of them can compete with the sheer terrifying unpleasantness of slowly suffocating to death.

When the whip came out, I nearly started choking right there. Whipping—that was a quaint new experience, and one I wasn’t anxious to try. But first came the question I’d been waiting for, while my eyes were glued to the whip in his hands: How does the Stargate work? And even though I would’ve done almost anything just then to please my host, I couldn’t give him that.

I licked my lips. “It’s complicated but I’ll try to use short words so you can understand. The gate opens up a stable wormhole to—”

And that was when the whip descended, but not like I expected. The next thing I knew, I was trying desperately to breathe with hard leather biting into my throat, crushing my windpipe.

The body doesn’t take too well to going without air, and it’ll fight for it. Mine bucked without my permission, without realizing it was tied down and doing seriously bad things to my arm. I passed out soon after that, whether from lack of air or pain, I don’t know.

He slapped me awake. Another question. I told him what he could do with himself. As it turns out, probably not the best choice. I couldn’t make a sound, but I was screaming inside.

Repeat ad nauseum.

After a while, I started getting drunk on the pain and panic. No rescue was coming, and I wouldn’t be able to take this indefinitely. My mind was already groggy, my words slurred.

That was probably the reason big-and-ugly leaned in closer, to hear me better. And suddenly all those lessons from Sheppard’s School of Self-Defense kicked in.

Or rather, I kicked. Hard.

He went flying and I fell over chair and all, teetering on the edge of consciousness. I laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, then worried that I was lying there laughing. I was still tied to the chair, my arm stabbing pain into me with every inhalation, and my throat bruised and swollen. And, oh yeah, I was in the middle of a military stronghold. Not exactly comedy material, nor me at my best.

But…the chair had splintered in the fall.

It took precious minutes of wriggling and gasping and cursing under my breath, but I finally managed to get free of the chair and climb dizzily to my feet. It took another minute of leaning against the wall before I could remember how to move said feet, and even then I staggered worse than I had after the Christmas party. I glanced back at my quietly moaning captor, and that hardened my resolve. One way or another, I was getting out of there.

I listened at the door, waited for some distant sounds to fade, then fumbled it open with my bound hands and slid out.

There were still sounds of running in the building, someone yelling, but it wasn’t near so I kept moving, doggedly heading down the hallway, bumping unsteadily against the wall every few steps, no idea where I was going except that it wasn’t here, with that chair, that whip. I could taste fear more strongly than blood now, but a desperate refusal to give up kept me going. Sheppard always said I was stubborn, and I’d always smugly agreed with him, and oh, God, what I wouldn’t have given to see him coming around the corner just then.

And just then, he came around the corner.

I was too startled and too close and more than a little too confused to stop in time, lurching into him and nearly sending us both to the ground. I think I took him by surprise, too, considering it was a second more before the gun jabbing into my side was withdrawn. About the same time my knees gave up and I started to slide to the ground.

“Hold on, Rodney.” At least he recovered fast. I was still trying to figure out what was going on when he grabbed me, shifting when he encountered my swollen shoulder and I groaned, and eased me down to the floor.

My first attempt at talking only managed a pained grunt. The second try elicited a wheeze, but good enough. “You’re late.” That momentous announcement was what I had scraped my strength together for.

He didn’t seem to take it badly, mouth twitching up into a smile as he took his vest off. “Nice to see you, too.” The difference was, he sounded like he meant it, and I hadn’t.

“Not that I mind your being here,” I swallowed painfully, “but a little sooner would’ve been good. Really good, actually.” My head dropped back against the wall, neck raw and wobbly. But I was shivering with relief, my bones weak with gratitude.

Sheppard had taken off his jacket, and he eased it over my shoulders. “Is that any way to talk to the guy who’s here to rescue you? Although, it looks like you weren’t doing a bad job of that already.”

I snorted. “Right. You lie even worse than you tell time, Major.” The heat from the warm jacket was like a drug, making me drowsy even in the midst of pain and danger. An urgent thought roused me briefly. “How’s Ford?”

“He’ll be all right—I think he was more worried about you.”

“Hmm. There’s hope for him yet.”

John checked me over. I propped my eyes open to at least a half-lidded glossy stare to watch him work, and kept reminding myself rescue had come.

I was safe now. Cold, in pain, and far from home, but safe. The cavalry had swept in with automatic weapons and bad hair. And a surprisingly gentle touch.

And the chant in my head turned into a heartfelt, _thank you, thank you, thank you_.

 

Rodney really looked lousy, but he was breathing, and I could forgive anything else.

He was still shivering, and I pulled my jacket closer around him, which only made him groan. I winced—right, shoulder. At least I could do something about that, but he wouldn’t enjoy it much. “If you’re not talking, I know it’s bad,” I said with raised eyebrow, and got an exasperated look. My smile softened, and as I leaned forward to untie his hands, I said low in his ear, “You’re gonna be fine, Rodney, just take it easy.”

I could tell he was trying, even as I unwound the twine-like restraints from his chafed and bleeding wrists. That didn’t look too good, either, but I was betting he could barely feel it compared to the arm, especially when I eased it around from his back to his side. He swallowed, looking sick, and when he opened his mouth, I was expecting a rush of complaints. But all he said was, “I didn’t talk.”

My jaw clenched. This was not a conversation I wanted to be having with one of my people, let alone my team civilian, but he was watching me intently for reaction, always that bit of worry there that he wouldn’t measure up. Sometimes the ones who brag the most do it because they need to hear it the most. “Oh, yeah?” I said.

He shook his head. “He wanted to know how to use the Stargate, but I didn’t tell him.” There was stubbornness there, but also desperation for approval, and for a second I wondered if he’d had a dad like mine.

“That’s good, Rodney,” I said warmly. “You did fine.” I would’ve told him the same thing if he’d spilled everything he knew, and meant it, but he had a right to be proud of this.

“Really?” He settled back at that, looking faintly pleased. “Really.” Then his arm moved and he flinched again.

“I can help with that,” I nodded at it, “but it’s gonna hurt.”

He closed his eyes and whispered, “I know, I remember.”

“Oh, yeah? When was that?” I took hold of his wrist, his skin cool under mine and, very gently, the bad shoulder. I was trying to distract him and I think he knew it, but he played along.

“Third grade. Lab accident.”

“You had a lab when you were in third grade?” And I jerked, hard.

He made a strangled sound, his back arching, then fell back panting.

“Slow, deep breaths, Rodney.” I squeezed the nape of his neck and grinned. “See? Isn’t that better?”

He muttered a curse I would never have thought he knew, and I laughed as I set to binding his arm to his chest. His eyes were closed, so I also took up a running monologue on the situation to keep him grounded and focused on me: his talent for getting into trouble, my heroism for showing up when I did. He still shivered and flinched sometimes, but he was relaxing.

Running footsteps approached, and Rodney gave a panicked croak as his eyes flew open. I’d already reacted, pivoting around, weapon up, my one hand still stretched back in a reassuring grip on his knee. I stood down when the three uniformed men came into sight, and he followed my lead.

The men and I had a quick conversation; most of the guys in the building had been rounded up but still no blondie. I turned back to Rodney. “McKay, where’s the guy who was interrogating you?”

He made a face. “Back there.” he tipped my head vaguely. “Door.”

Another arrival caught my attention, and I was relieved to see Teyla. “Major, I have returned.” She slipped in beside me, looking Rodney over critically while he squinted back at her and finally smiled.

“Thanks, Teyla. Stay with McKay until I go secure the building, okay?”

“Of course.” She took my place, already examining Rodney’s wrists.

I just stopped long enough to drop a hand on his shoulder. It sagged under the weight, he was so tired. I spoke softly. “That guy, was he blond?”

The question threw him, and he frowned at me. “Are you going to arrest him or ask him out?” he groused.

Always with the mouth. “Just answer the question, Rodney,” I said, exasperated.

“Yes.”

“Did he do that to your neck?”

His hand strayed up to feel the welts as if he’d forgotten them, as if he didn’t still sound hoarse and scratchy from them, and I intercepted his hand. “Yes,” he said wearily. “Choking me…a whip.”

My eyes narrowed, my grip on my weapon tightening, but I kept the rage out of my voice as I gave his shoulder a final squeeze. “I’ll be right back.”

He nodded once. I’m guessing he knew where I was going, but it didn’t seem to bother him any more than it would me. I stood and without looking back, moved out.

Rodney’s blond playmate wasn’t too hard to find. Most of the doors off that hallway were locked or battered and unused. The first one I managed to open was a good thirty feet away, and even as I doubted McKay could have made it that far, I saw the broken chair, the whip, and next to it, a red-faced guy who could’ve doubled Dolph Lundgren, just climbing to his feet. Painfully. I spared a moment to be impressed with my team civilian’s handiwork. But not long, because the guy was already lunging for his whip.

I shot him. Didn’t even feel a twinge of remorse.

The halls were full of government men now, securing the last of the rebels, but I led the door-to-door sweep to make sure we got them all. We couldn’t find any more, but I frowned when I saw we only had seven prisoners and three dead. I’d figured on at least a half-dozen more. I considered leaving it to the government people to figure out—I wanted to get Rodney home as soon as possible. A quick and dirty interrogation of one of the prisoners was also tempting. But finally I decided on the quickest route and, coincidentally, the one that would let me see how McKay was doing.

I knelt beside him again in the hallway, nodding absently as Teyla told me he’d passed out after I’d gone. Torture and battlefield first aid’ll do that to you; I was surprised he hadn’t blacked out when I’d reduced the dislocated arm. Still, I wanted to hear it from him, so I chafed his cheek gently, calling his name. No light slap—he didn’t need to wake up thinking he was back in that room.

Still, he started awake, then relaxed when he saw me. ‘Cause if I’m here, everything must be okay, right? I’d proved that one wrong so many times, but he still looked at me like that.

“Rodney, listen to me. Did you see any hidden doors or rooms where some of the rebels might be hiding?”

“Rebels?” he slurred. Geez, and I hadn’t even given him morphine yet.

I grimaced. “Yeah, McKay, the bad guys.”

“Oh.” He thought about that for a moment with obvious effort. He was still shivering, and I zipped up the jacket I’d put on him. “The cellar,” he finally said.

“The cellar? Where’s the cellar, Rodney?”

He was fading on me, high on exhaustion and pain. I knew what that was like, just hadn’t realized how frustrating it was on the other side. “Trapdoor…creaked a lot…by the front door. Said they’d put me…”

And that was about all I was getting from him, his head sagging again. I eased it back up to rest against the wall, giving his face a fond pat as I did—even mostly out of it, the guy was good. Then I turned back to the squad leader behind me. “You got that?”

A small smile touched his mouth, soldier to soldier. “Yes, sir.”

“They’re all yours—I’ve gotta get my people back.”

He understood that, too, and disappeared, his men going after him. They had their job to do, and I had mine.

Between Teyla and me, we got McKay up and swaying between us. I hooked his good hand onto the back of my vest, where it clung with more resolve than I thought he was capable of just then, and reached around him to grab his belt. It was unwieldy, and I probably could have gotten a stretcher if I’d asked for one, but the gate wasn’t far and I had an overwhelming desire to get out of this place and back to Atlantis. I had an idea Rodney felt the same way.

“Let’s go home.”

 

We were walking. At least, I thought we were walking. My feet seemed to be moving, sounds slipping past me in Doppler shifts. Which was weird because I was also leaning, and hanging on to something. Somehow that all made sense, but I wasn’t sure how.

“We’re almost there, Rodney.”

Sheppard, the mathematical constant in my life. That was the variable I’d been missing. He’d make the equation work, and I stopped trying to figure it out.

I just kept shuffling, maintained my cramped grip, and leaned heavily. I always leaned heavily. He never seemed to mind. Probably didn’t know he was the one thing I’d leaned against that didn’t fall over.

John Sheppard, algebraic factor and sequoia tree. The thought made me giggle.

“How much morphine did you give him, Teyla?”

“I didn’t, Major—he did not seem to need it.”

“You’ve got that right.” A longsuffering sigh. “Just hang in there, McKay.” The arm around my back tightened its grip.

Not letting go. That was another constant—he never let go. I sobered. “I didn’t talk.”

“I know,” he said patiently. “You did a good job. You might even get a commendation.”

“Really?” My foggy mind couldn’t grasp what that was, but it sounded good. I yawned. “I’m tired.”

“One more minute, Rodney, then you can sleep,” he assured me.

“Okay,” I murmured.

And I think that was about when I passed out.

I stood over his bed, arms crossed, watching him sleep and wondering what I’d gotten myself into.

This whole expedition had quickly gone so far south, I’d thrown out the map months ago. I’d gone from a simple pilot to ranking military officer in this galaxy, from a loner to a guy with some real friends, from an outcast to someone with a home, a place. And if that weren’t strange enough, one arrogant, big-mouthed, stubborn scientist had played a large part in that transition. How weird was that?

I shook my head, glancing over at the doc. “So he’s gonna be fine?”

“Oh, aye. The shoulder will need some rest and therapy and his throat will hurt like the blazes for a few days, but he’ll be fine.”

“And Ford?” I glanced over at another nearby bed.

“His healing time’ll be longer, but he should recover completely. Did you say Rodney bandaged him up?”

“That’s what Ford said. McKay wouldn’t go with them until he’d seen to Ford.”

Beckett nodded. “Well, I can tell you, with the way he was bleeding, Lieutenant Ford probably wouldn’t have survived otherwise. Sounds like Rodney was the hero of the day.”

“Yeah, he was,” I agreed quietly. I’d just been talking to keep him awake on the way back to the gate, a ploy that had worked until the gate had just come into sight, at which point he’d quietly folded on me. But Rodney really had outdone himself that day, and some sort of citation wasn’t a bad idea. I patted his blanket-covered foot. “Hero, huh? It’s gonna make you even more impossible to live with.”

He wriggled deeper into the warmth of the blankets and sighed comfortably in his sleep. I could’ve sworn he smiled. I know I did as I walked out of there.

I had to go see Elizabeth about a commendation.

 

 _Hero._ It was the only word I heard John say, but I liked the sound of it.

Safe, contented, and _home_ , I pressed myself into the softness of the bed with a sigh and went back to sleep.

The End


End file.
